


Study Session

by thesinbin



Series: Ash's Adventures [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesinbin/pseuds/thesinbin
Summary: Peter's biophysics exam cues a study session you weren't entirely expecting.





	Study Session

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebearking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/gifts).



This semester your schedule had fallen into something of a symbiotic relationship with Peter’s. Although you weren’t in any of the so-called hard sciences, the film and writing classes you took fed your creative mind. When combined with Peter’s current biophysics and chemistry, the two of you thought of a myriad of potentially cool superheros that required some, perhaps, rather dubious human experimentation, not to mention some frankly awesome tech to go with it. 

 

It was Peter who had initially suggested studying together, the casual air about the statement betrayed by the rising flush that crept up his neck onto his cheeks. You’d pretended to think about it before suggesting the study rooms just down the hall from your dorm. Since then, the two of you had fallen into something of a routine. 

 

You often met up for lunch to figure out when and where to study, or so you pretended, and parted ways for your one afternoon class. Your friend group met up for dinner most nights of the week, and Peter offered to walk you back to your dorm, or the library, or wherever you’d figured would work best to study. 

 

Today you’d elected for the quasi-privacy of the common room of your dorm apartment. Your roommates were downtown hitting up bars, and the two of you had ordered Chinese. The empty takeout boxes on the coffee table were interrupted only by your novels and Peter’s textbooks. Every once in a while you could feel him shift against you, a soft sigh punctuating each flip of paper. His array of multicolored pens kept rolling away from him. 

 

“Something on your mind?” you asked, finishing your chapter of  _ Frankenstein. _ Peter pursed his lips before grimacing. 

 

“Just—sometimes I think I’m just learning new and interesting ways to kill people instead of help them,” he said with a sigh, turning to face you better. “Who knew too much potassium could kill you? What if I’m eating too many bananas?” 

 

You smiled softly at him. “Peter, you don’t even eat bananas.” His lip protruded into a sullen pout. 

 

“Okay, Chinese food then!” 

 

“That’s salty, Peter. If anything it would counteract all the bananas you now eat.” Peter’s eyes seemed to sparkle as his lips quirked into a wide, lopsided smile. 

 

“Well, if you say so,” he said, voice now lighter, brighter. 

 

“What else are you looking at?” You asked, chin moving slightly to indicate his open textbook. Peter glanced down at the diagram that stared back, soulless. Malicious, almost. 

 

“There’s a biophysics exam on why each muscle group in the body functions the way it does,” he said somewhat dejectedly. “Like why the quadriceps are actually four muscle groups.” 

 

You hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe using a living model would help?” You suggested, mischief painting your features. The mirth dancing in your eyes brought a smile to Peter’s face. 

 

“Okay,” he said slowly. He took the hand not holding your book, splaying your fingers as he held it palm up. His thumbs massaged up and down your palms as he explained the tendons, ligaments, and muscles that allowed your fingers to bend, your hand to grip. Upon reaching the end of your sleeve, he paused. 

 

You smiled reassuringly and pushed the sleeve past your elbow, allowing him to manipulate your lower arm. Peter continued to flush under your scrutiny despite the brightness of your smile. Having run out of anatomy to describe in your lower arm, Peter paused, thoughtfully going through his options. In a moment of unprecedented boldness, you pulled your sweater off completely. Peter turned scarlet. 

 

You placed your book on the table and moved forward, effectively placing yourself in his lap. “You’re almost as red as your suit,” you said teasingly, placing Peter’s hands on your waist. “You doin’ okay there, bud?” 

 

Peter nodded, his eyes wide. He couldn’t seem to decide what he wanted to look at more—the soft, vulnerable flush on your cheeks, or the soft skin exposed below. Your hands rose to his face as you leaned down to press your lips against his softly. “Is this okay?” Peter pulled you back down to kiss you again. 

 

It wasn’t as awkward as your first kiss had been, all clinking teeth and unsteady hands. You and Peter had learned finesse, you supposed. He knew this—you both knew this. The only difference was your lack of shirt—and Peter’s seeming stiffness. “You can touch, you know,” you said breathlessly, “if you want.” 

 

“I do—” Peter said, his cheeks scarlet. “I do want. I just—” You pulled back slightly. Your proximity, and half-nakedness, had probably fried some of Peter’s circuits. “I don’t—I haven’t done…” He gestured at the two of you in general. “...this before.” You raised an eyebrow.

 

“We have definitely made out before, Peter,” you said, head tilted slightly. He shook his head. 

 

“I haven’t gone past this, exactly,” he said slowly, cheeks flushing once more. You grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers. 

 

“I haven’t either,” you said, feigning calm although your heart had been adamantly attempting to escape your ribcage. “We can learn together?” Peter searched your face, eyes scouring your features. 

 

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said quietly. “What if—what if it’s bad?” You kissed him gently. 

 

“You won’t disappoint me,” you said sweetly. “And if it isn’t the stuff of dreams, we learn, and the next time will be better.” 

 

Peter’s smile seemed a little more reassured. “We can stop here,” you said. “There’s no rush.” Peter’s brow furrowed as he brought you back down to kiss you again, one hand on the back of your neck, the other hand running up and down your side. He reveled at the softness of your skin. 

 

“Can we take this to your bedroom?” he whispered against your lips. “We could get caught—” You nodded. 

 

It seemed that Peter picked you up effortlessly and groped blindly for your doorknob before finally finding it and quickly closing the door behind him. Your landing on the bed, although unceremonious, was gentle. You scooted backward to allow Peter room enough to climb up. 

 

“The nudity is feeling a little one-sided here,” you said teasingly. Peter, eyes wide, raced to pull his own shirt off, nearly tearing it in the process. You giggled before pulling him in to kiss again. “There’s no rush,” you said softly. “I was teasing.” You could feel the flush rise beneath your palm. 

 

“I knew that,” he said, pout pulling his lip forward. Peter was getting the hang of this, you thought. He’d been almost smooth in getting most of the rest of your clothes off, leaving both of you in your underwear. It seemed that here, he stalled. 

 

You bit your lip nervously, exchanging an equally nervous smile with Peter. “We got this,” you said, throwing a beaming smile his way. 

 

“Learning experience?” 

 

“Learning experience.” He was kissing you again, nerves making his movements jerky. You feigned confidence and shimmied out of your remaining clothing first before pulling Peter down. Your head hit your pillow with a soft  _ poof.  _

 

Peter’s body hovered above yours until you pulled him down, your legs hooking behind his hips to push him down against you. This, you thought, was better. The little jerks of his hips against yours was lovely friction, but you needed more. Peter’s hands were busy holding himself up, which left your hands free to roam. You decided the best thing to do was to grind back, your hands clinging to his shoulders for purchase. The gasp that escaped his mouth was more than worth it. 

 

Peter was achingly hard against you. “Can I…?” you whispered into his skin as your fingers played with the band of his boxers. Peter nodded. 

 

“Please.” The whine entering his voice gave you courage. As your hand slipped beneath the fabric, Peter shifted his attention from your lips to your neck, trailing kisses to your collarbone. Your hand, meanwhile, grasped his cock gingerly at first. “Tighter,” he mumbled into your skin. You complied instantly, moving up and down his length, allowing him to nearly rut into your hand. 

 

“Peter,” you said, half distracted by the attention he now shifted your nipples. He snapped his gaze up to meet yours. “I want you.” Peter’s pupils seemed to widen at the words. 

 

“You have me,” he breathed. You smiled before it widened into a grin. 

 

“Can I have you inside me?” Peter’s face flushed. 

 

“C-Condoms? I don’t have any—” You pulled a drawer open from beside the bed and searched blindly for the one silver packet in there. As you grasped it, Peter’s eyes widened. 

 

“My roommates said I should have one,” you said, flushing. You got a grin in return. It took the two of you a minute to get the condom on properly. “Ready?” you said, smile wide and breathless, excitement lighting up your veins. You beat down the flutter of anxiety. You trusted Peter—both of you would be learning, together, and there was no one you’d rather “study” with. 

 

Peter was exceptionally gentle as he entered you. His eyes betrayed a desire for your approval, anxiety about causing you pain—Peter wanted to do right by you. As his hips came flush with yours, you kissed him again. “We got this,” you said again. Peter nodded. 

 

“Can I move?” he asked, his hips wriggling against yours. You giggled at his eagerness and nodded. 

 

He moved slowly, a steady rhythm that complimented the casual air of the kisses the two of you exchanged. Your hips began to shift slightly as he moved, eager to meet him. “Faster?” you asked. Peter eagerly sped up, you shifted your legs to press against his. “A little slower than that,” you murmured, kissing him again. 

 

“Sorry,” he replied. You arched your back slightly. Peter shifted his hips in response, adjusting his angle to your unspoken request. He rubbed against you in all the right ways now, you thought, a heady moan escaping you. Peter let out a groan, increasing his pace ever so slightly. You grabbed one of his hands and led it down to your clit, moaning instructions into his ear that made him dizzy. 

 

His fingers rubbed circles against the sensitive nerves in time with his thrusts, forcing a series of breathy, wanton moans from your lips as your head tilted back. Peter groaned your name in response, using the hand holding him up to cradle your head. You pulled him in to kiss him again. “I’m gonna—” he began, groaning as your nails scratched his neck. 

 

“Me, too—” you gasped, hips bucking against his. “Peter—”  His name came out as a long throaty moan, your walls clenching around his cock as he chased after his own finish. You felt entirely boneless, moaning again as you felt Peter reach his climax and slow before pulling out. He kissed you again, breathless, cheeks flushed. 

 

“I love you, Peter,” you murmured, watching as he cleaned himself up and returned to lay down behind you. 

 

“I love you,” he said, kissing your shoulder. The blankets, having been exiled to the end of the bed, found themselves pulled over your forms with a groan. 

 

“Peter?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Let’s do this again.” You felt him smile into the back of your neck. 


End file.
